My ocd evolved quite rapidly from one very specific concern to a spiderweb of relationships to other illnesses, people, places, objects, and experiences. While I wasn't relieving myself in bottles in a dark room like Howard Hughes at my worst, I'd still call it severe. Being housebound for six months qualifies, and I was.
Even eating got to be too challenging; there is always the risk for an unexpected exposure if something doesn't look right or appears to have been tampered with in some manner. For a period of time, I was sleeping on the floor with no blanket or pillow, eating nothing but bottled water, coffee, and snack crackers, and not even stepping out my front door to retrieve packages or mail. The wake-up call came when the "diet" ocd had imposed on me started making me retain fluid in my ankles and my kidneys started hurting all the time from constant dehydration. While I drank the bottled water, it wasn't much. Opening the caps was an exposure for me, and I avoided it until my thirst was so intense it was almost unbearable.
I utilized a broom to reach items placed on the wrong side of the door when mail packages arrived. Literally every single moment of my day consisted of cleaning and washing rituals, and even my sleep was invaded by contamination nightmares. If I came into contact with anything on myself which I believed to be an infection of any sort, a minimum of 4-8 hours of ritual body cleaning and disinfection of the area around me and the area around that would follow.
At my worst, I truly believed suicide was the only way out. I thought my life was over and I was left with an existence of suffering and watching like a ghost as my life, he one I once enjoyed so much, kept going on without me. This was before I experienced the results of response prevention.
If someone had told me five years ago that I'd be living that way, I would have laughed and said, "There's no way in hell I'd ever do that to myself." I completely understand why people have such difficulty imagining why we do the things ocd tells us to do. The worst of it, I think, it the fact that lessening the grip ocd has on me involves reacting to and doing things in such a way that it feels wildly counterintuitive. Common sense says wash if you feel dirty, and our biology has us programmed to react to fear in a certain way. I always say that reducing the ocd's power involves something akin to having a hungry, roaring lion in your living room and knowing that the only way to avoid being consumed is to ignore any urge to respond to the lion or fear the situation causes. Doing anything to placate the lion will only cause it to grow and become angrier. Mindf_ck.
But it is what it is.
I went to sleep last night without washing my hands at all. I didn't plan it that way, but I sat in the recliner feeling like I just needed a break for a moment, then I woke up hours later. I decided to skip the rituals I knew I'd need to go to my bed and sit with the fact that I hadn't washed my hands because it was still a step in the right direction. In all, I slept over 10 hours in the chair. After being awake for two straight days, I guess I needed it. I washed my hands when I got up, but for less than 5 minutes. Feelin' good. In the past, falling asleep with dirty hands might have worked briefly, but it would have been on the floor only and I would have had to spray the floor with disinfectant, change my clothes, and wash any uncovered part of my body as I cannot know what I touched in my sleep. None of that happened, and I don't really feel the need.
Showing posts with label ERP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ERP. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Just a Quick Wash...
We've all been there (us ocd people); you feel you've touched something contaminated and you just want to do a "quick wash", or you think you heard something in the house and you just want to do a "quick check". Haha, right.
That "quick" wash starts out okay, until you realize you've splattered "dirty" soap water onto the floor. Then you have to clean it, so you dry your hands and grab the floor cleaner. Then you have to start over with the hand washing. But now you're running out of paper towels or hand towels, or you've contaminated what you've got and need fresh ones. So you go get what you need and start again. By now, you've washed so many times you forget if you got each part of your hands...and wait...did you really clean up after the soap splatter, or did you just know you had to? Shit. You need to do that again. Meanwhile, you think your hair touched the contaminated cleaner bottle, so you have to clean that part of your hair. And because of all of the contamination you've been in, you'll need to change your clothes.
Or maybe you went to check out a noise you heard. And you did, but when you got back to bed you couldn't remember if you checked the window lock. So you went back to check. And once you were back in bed, you weren't sure if you really checked it or if you just went into the room and thought you checked it but really looked at something else. So you check again. But wait...did you check on your child? What if there was a blanket wrapped around his or her neck? You run out of your bedroom and into theirs. The kid is fine. Lather, rinse, repeat. You finally get done with this "quick" wash or check about 3 hours later. You're so exhausted you're asleep before your head hits the pillow.
This is why I have come to realize that "just a quick..." never is, no matter what it is, when you have ocd. The epic tidal wave of anxiety and exhaustion that could potentially (and probably will) overtake me if I decide that I need to do just a quick wash or check is often far worse than just sitting with the anxiety of whatever it is I'm trying to avoid. In fact, the experts would recommend going a step further and sitting with the anxiety while simultaneously imagining my worst case scenario. Honestly, I don't do the latter most of the time. I did once, and the result was kind of funny. But usually, just sitting with it is enough.
For example, I have a thing about contaminated water. Sometimes, when I am filling my coffee or tea cup with water in the morning, my ocd says, "Stop! Where did that water come from!? Were you paying attention to the faucet? Did it come from there? Or did you pick up a soaking cup full of old coffee and who knows what else?" Of course, this is absurd, and it sounds even more absurd when I externalize it by speaking it or writing it (the reason I came back to blogging!). There are a number of things I could reassure myself with. But, as absurd as it is, ocd is a powerful naysayer who can dismiss any measure of comfort and destroy my peace of mind in seconds. So I've stopped listening about the water. Because I've decided that drinking junk water is going to be more pleasant in any circumstance (even if it did, in fact, sit overnight soaking in a cup) than listening to ocd tell me I have to refill my damn coffee cup countless times before it feels "right" and I am allowed to be fully convinced of the safety of the water. Sometimes I even say aloud, "F%ck you, ocd. I'm using this water. I'm putting it in the microwave. See? Right there. And you can kiss my ass." Of course, I only say this if I am alone, which I usually am in the early morning. I don't know why, but when I talk back to ocd aloud, I feel more powerful. Eh, and maybe a little crazy, but whatever.
ERP is awesome. Well, maybe not the E (exposure) part, which is why you might often see me say just RP or response prevention. My ocd, this episode, has been what I would consider severe. I was housebound for 6 months, and wore only one pair of shoes for 2 years. I washed my hands for sometimes 3 hours at a time, and could not touch laundry without plastic gloves on my hands at one point. So for me, and I'm guessing some of you, simply preventing the response part of my constant friggin' anxiety and stress is huge all by itself. I don't need to seek exposures; simply getting out of bed and going pee in the morning constitutes an exposure for me. Really. But anyhow...
Recently, I found what I think is the best book ever written on the topic of ocd. It is called Coping with OCD: Practical Strategies for Living Well with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, by Troy DuFrene and Bruce Hyman. This book is fantastic; it hits all of the important points, stresses the importance of maintenance, and gives practical advice anyone can use. In short, it basically affirms that you're not alone, that they "get it", and gives you some very easy-to-follow instructions on how to set yourself free. Or, as they put it, to quiet the "Doomsayer". And ocd is a doomsayer, yes? And a bitch. And a bully. And so many other things. I find metaphor to be helpful in explaining my struggle with those who are unfamiliar with ocd. I like to say I have a bully living in my head 24/7, who only shuts up when I sleep. And back in the day, not even then! The bully even made its way into my dreams! Not lately, though.
Anyhow, I highly recommend the book. I'm not paid or encouraged to say that, I don't make money from my blog, and I'm not here for anyone's benefit but my own. And, if I am blessed enough to make a difference in someone else's life, your benefit. If I help even one person, even a little, by sharing my own struggle, it's all been worth it. And I sincerely mean that. I truly wish all of you who suffer with ocd a life free of it, where you can be you again. I don't even know you, and I want that for you. No one deserves this. I hate bullies, and ocd is one of the worst.
So this week, my goal is to avoid (as many times as possible) the "quick" wash, or the "quick" check. Want to join me? I'll be happy to cheer you on! If you're reading along and have a blog, I'd love to read yours, too, so leave a link in my comments. I add my regular reads to my sidebar.
Best to all of you.
That "quick" wash starts out okay, until you realize you've splattered "dirty" soap water onto the floor. Then you have to clean it, so you dry your hands and grab the floor cleaner. Then you have to start over with the hand washing. But now you're running out of paper towels or hand towels, or you've contaminated what you've got and need fresh ones. So you go get what you need and start again. By now, you've washed so many times you forget if you got each part of your hands...and wait...did you really clean up after the soap splatter, or did you just know you had to? Shit. You need to do that again. Meanwhile, you think your hair touched the contaminated cleaner bottle, so you have to clean that part of your hair. And because of all of the contamination you've been in, you'll need to change your clothes.
Or maybe you went to check out a noise you heard. And you did, but when you got back to bed you couldn't remember if you checked the window lock. So you went back to check. And once you were back in bed, you weren't sure if you really checked it or if you just went into the room and thought you checked it but really looked at something else. So you check again. But wait...did you check on your child? What if there was a blanket wrapped around his or her neck? You run out of your bedroom and into theirs. The kid is fine. Lather, rinse, repeat. You finally get done with this "quick" wash or check about 3 hours later. You're so exhausted you're asleep before your head hits the pillow.
This is why I have come to realize that "just a quick..." never is, no matter what it is, when you have ocd. The epic tidal wave of anxiety and exhaustion that could potentially (and probably will) overtake me if I decide that I need to do just a quick wash or check is often far worse than just sitting with the anxiety of whatever it is I'm trying to avoid. In fact, the experts would recommend going a step further and sitting with the anxiety while simultaneously imagining my worst case scenario. Honestly, I don't do the latter most of the time. I did once, and the result was kind of funny. But usually, just sitting with it is enough.
For example, I have a thing about contaminated water. Sometimes, when I am filling my coffee or tea cup with water in the morning, my ocd says, "Stop! Where did that water come from!? Were you paying attention to the faucet? Did it come from there? Or did you pick up a soaking cup full of old coffee and who knows what else?" Of course, this is absurd, and it sounds even more absurd when I externalize it by speaking it or writing it (the reason I came back to blogging!). There are a number of things I could reassure myself with. But, as absurd as it is, ocd is a powerful naysayer who can dismiss any measure of comfort and destroy my peace of mind in seconds. So I've stopped listening about the water. Because I've decided that drinking junk water is going to be more pleasant in any circumstance (even if it did, in fact, sit overnight soaking in a cup) than listening to ocd tell me I have to refill my damn coffee cup countless times before it feels "right" and I am allowed to be fully convinced of the safety of the water. Sometimes I even say aloud, "F%ck you, ocd. I'm using this water. I'm putting it in the microwave. See? Right there. And you can kiss my ass." Of course, I only say this if I am alone, which I usually am in the early morning. I don't know why, but when I talk back to ocd aloud, I feel more powerful. Eh, and maybe a little crazy, but whatever.
ERP is awesome. Well, maybe not the E (exposure) part, which is why you might often see me say just RP or response prevention. My ocd, this episode, has been what I would consider severe. I was housebound for 6 months, and wore only one pair of shoes for 2 years. I washed my hands for sometimes 3 hours at a time, and could not touch laundry without plastic gloves on my hands at one point. So for me, and I'm guessing some of you, simply preventing the response part of my constant friggin' anxiety and stress is huge all by itself. I don't need to seek exposures; simply getting out of bed and going pee in the morning constitutes an exposure for me. Really. But anyhow...
Recently, I found what I think is the best book ever written on the topic of ocd. It is called Coping with OCD: Practical Strategies for Living Well with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, by Troy DuFrene and Bruce Hyman. This book is fantastic; it hits all of the important points, stresses the importance of maintenance, and gives practical advice anyone can use. In short, it basically affirms that you're not alone, that they "get it", and gives you some very easy-to-follow instructions on how to set yourself free. Or, as they put it, to quiet the "Doomsayer". And ocd is a doomsayer, yes? And a bitch. And a bully. And so many other things. I find metaphor to be helpful in explaining my struggle with those who are unfamiliar with ocd. I like to say I have a bully living in my head 24/7, who only shuts up when I sleep. And back in the day, not even then! The bully even made its way into my dreams! Not lately, though.
Anyhow, I highly recommend the book. I'm not paid or encouraged to say that, I don't make money from my blog, and I'm not here for anyone's benefit but my own. And, if I am blessed enough to make a difference in someone else's life, your benefit. If I help even one person, even a little, by sharing my own struggle, it's all been worth it. And I sincerely mean that. I truly wish all of you who suffer with ocd a life free of it, where you can be you again. I don't even know you, and I want that for you. No one deserves this. I hate bullies, and ocd is one of the worst.
So this week, my goal is to avoid (as many times as possible) the "quick" wash, or the "quick" check. Want to join me? I'll be happy to cheer you on! If you're reading along and have a blog, I'd love to read yours, too, so leave a link in my comments. I add my regular reads to my sidebar.
Best to all of you.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Logical Brain vs. OCD Brain
It's so easy to backslide. And to make excuses. And to be in free fall before I even know what the hell hit me. I am becoming more adept at putting the brakes on. And it never ceases to amaze me how something that has me at a 95/100 on the ocd fear scale can lose the power to frighten me if I simply encounter something else that puts me into fear mode. That realization is helping me get some perspective on the degree to which ocd has control over my thoughts and feelings.
Blood and anything which looks skin-like are the two things I struggle the most with. Well, those and public areas which are wet. If I am in public and suddenly part of me gets wet, the fear that grips me is crippling. My most recent blood freakout exposures were a used item I ordered and a bag from the grocery store. There was a drop of what could only be (at least in my mind) blood on the ordered item, all rusty and droplet-shaped and there as if to challenge me. And second, what appeared to be a light smearing of blood on the grocery bag. I'm absolutely ashamed of how many groceries I threw away. I can fight a lot of things, but blood isn't one of them. The ordered item also found its way to the trash. This disorder, between cleaning supplies, ruined clothing from cleaning solutions and excessive washing, and things that just don't pass inspection and end up garbage, is a sickening financial burden.
I miss my life. I think of how I used to be, all of the things I used to do. Now, simply getting some sleep is a challenge. I often stay up all night because dealing with the bedtime routine where I simply wash my face and hands and brush my teeth is something which can turn into an hour-long mentally torturous mess if I do the least little thing wrong. And while I know that ERP is the absolute surest way to freedom, it is so counter-intuitive. Instinct is a damn strong thing. We are hard-wired for self-preservation and avoidance of danger. The stupid ocd is sending false messages to the danger centers of my brain, which in turn alert every other part of me, so the whole sensation becomes extremely real. And very powerful. Fighting my whole body as it screams DANGER feels like holding my breath when I need to breathe and expecting that I will receive all the oxygen I need by doing so; there are very real physiological urges there, and my brain doesn't seem to be able to easily make sense of why it should ignore these particular signals. My brain does not know they are false. Well, my logical brain knows they are false, but the part of my brain that is in charge of the fight-or-flight response doesn't know.
Nothing like realizing people have had two babies in the time you've spent mostly inside your house doing nothing at all because you're too afraid you might get contaminated if you do anything else. I think part of me is still waiting for this to go away, just the same way it seemed to sort of happen all at once. I don't believe that will happen, but it sure would be nice.
For now, I fight on.
Blood and anything which looks skin-like are the two things I struggle the most with. Well, those and public areas which are wet. If I am in public and suddenly part of me gets wet, the fear that grips me is crippling. My most recent blood freakout exposures were a used item I ordered and a bag from the grocery store. There was a drop of what could only be (at least in my mind) blood on the ordered item, all rusty and droplet-shaped and there as if to challenge me. And second, what appeared to be a light smearing of blood on the grocery bag. I'm absolutely ashamed of how many groceries I threw away. I can fight a lot of things, but blood isn't one of them. The ordered item also found its way to the trash. This disorder, between cleaning supplies, ruined clothing from cleaning solutions and excessive washing, and things that just don't pass inspection and end up garbage, is a sickening financial burden.
I miss my life. I think of how I used to be, all of the things I used to do. Now, simply getting some sleep is a challenge. I often stay up all night because dealing with the bedtime routine where I simply wash my face and hands and brush my teeth is something which can turn into an hour-long mentally torturous mess if I do the least little thing wrong. And while I know that ERP is the absolute surest way to freedom, it is so counter-intuitive. Instinct is a damn strong thing. We are hard-wired for self-preservation and avoidance of danger. The stupid ocd is sending false messages to the danger centers of my brain, which in turn alert every other part of me, so the whole sensation becomes extremely real. And very powerful. Fighting my whole body as it screams DANGER feels like holding my breath when I need to breathe and expecting that I will receive all the oxygen I need by doing so; there are very real physiological urges there, and my brain doesn't seem to be able to easily make sense of why it should ignore these particular signals. My brain does not know they are false. Well, my logical brain knows they are false, but the part of my brain that is in charge of the fight-or-flight response doesn't know.
Nothing like realizing people have had two babies in the time you've spent mostly inside your house doing nothing at all because you're too afraid you might get contaminated if you do anything else. I think part of me is still waiting for this to go away, just the same way it seemed to sort of happen all at once. I don't believe that will happen, but it sure would be nice.
For now, I fight on.
Monday, October 4, 2010
ERP Works
I think I am still in shock. Yes, all of the experts will tell you that ERP is the gold standard for OCD treatment, but when you are staring into the hopeless abyss that is the reality that becomes of a life turned living ritual hell, it is really difficult to believe that anything can set you free.
I am not free yet. In fact, I have a lot of work ahead of me. But doing ERP the way I am supposed to has restored something that OCD stole from me: hope. I have been able, through doing ERP, to do things I have not done in two years. I am stunned that this works, mostly because it feels so counter-intuitive at first. I mean, come on, forcing myself to do things that my brain is screaming at me to avoid? Things that the mere thought of result in my heart racing, my palms sweating and feelings of near panic? How can making myself suffer heal me? But it does.
Today, I was able to confront one of my biggest fears. Two of them, actually. Not only was I able to proceed with what I needed to do without getting into major rituals, I tackled both of these things with minimal anxiety symptoms. Typically, even after my rituals, these two things leave my pulse pounding and my breathing shallow and quick. Not today. And, at least two or three times, something happened that absolutely, unequivocally would have sent me back to do things over again. A couple of months ago, nothing would have gotten done tonight. This time, I completed the task.
Despite the fact that I am still in the thick of this and anticipate my share of difficult days and mistakes, I feel...hope.
I am not free yet. In fact, I have a lot of work ahead of me. But doing ERP the way I am supposed to has restored something that OCD stole from me: hope. I have been able, through doing ERP, to do things I have not done in two years. I am stunned that this works, mostly because it feels so counter-intuitive at first. I mean, come on, forcing myself to do things that my brain is screaming at me to avoid? Things that the mere thought of result in my heart racing, my palms sweating and feelings of near panic? How can making myself suffer heal me? But it does.
Today, I was able to confront one of my biggest fears. Two of them, actually. Not only was I able to proceed with what I needed to do without getting into major rituals, I tackled both of these things with minimal anxiety symptoms. Typically, even after my rituals, these two things leave my pulse pounding and my breathing shallow and quick. Not today. And, at least two or three times, something happened that absolutely, unequivocally would have sent me back to do things over again. A couple of months ago, nothing would have gotten done tonight. This time, I completed the task.
Despite the fact that I am still in the thick of this and anticipate my share of difficult days and mistakes, I feel...hope.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Consistency is Key
If anyone reading this is suffering through the nightmare that is OCD, and you are wondering what the trick is to ERP, I can tell you: consistency and ritual prevention.
For a few months, I did what I thought was ERP. I would force myself to do exposures, then I would either ritualize for hours afterward or I would take days off between ERP exercises to "recover". The only thing that recovered was OCD; I was getting worse for my efforts. The experience reminds me of a quote that really stuck with me, though I can't for the world recall where I found it. It basically stated that you cannot recover from OCD within the parameters of OCD. It is such an important thing to remember, because it is 100% true.
I have been feeling better lately, but not without hitting a new rock bottom first. One day, completely undone by my own anxiety, kneeling on the floor as bleach dissolved the skin on my hands and knees, I was howling in agony...and still could not stop the ritual. In fact, the pain was so severe (my chemical burns were so bad that I was bleeding) that I kept becoming distracted and having to start over. I was pleading for it to end, and I no longer cared how.
Over the days that followed, I knew I had two options; I either had to take control of my life back, or the self that had existed for more than 30 years would cease to be forever. I asked myself a very critical question; Is anything worth this? Anything? And I thought about that for a while. I examined the question, every terrible possibility, allowing myself to become immersed in the fears that had spawned this demon OCD. And the answer, unequivocally, was no. Even my very worst case scenario was almost laughable by comparison to the hell I had inflicted upon myself for two years.
Now, just having this realization is not a cure, and the feelings don't go away. However, it has served as a catalyst for me to begin doing the real, hard work of ERP. And, much to my astonishment, ERP does work. It really does. I know this because there are things I am doing now with a fair amount of ease which would have crippled me with fear to even think about a few months ago. Often, I find myself smiling because the work is becoming less like work and more automatic.
I faced a fear today that would have sent me into days of compulsion hell. I still did some precautionary measures, but it was not a full-on ritual disaster and I am not overcome with stress and anxiety. That alone is amazing. I don't think I'm out of the woods yet; I will never underestimate the power of OCD. But ERP, well, it's pretty powerful, too.
For a few months, I did what I thought was ERP. I would force myself to do exposures, then I would either ritualize for hours afterward or I would take days off between ERP exercises to "recover". The only thing that recovered was OCD; I was getting worse for my efforts. The experience reminds me of a quote that really stuck with me, though I can't for the world recall where I found it. It basically stated that you cannot recover from OCD within the parameters of OCD. It is such an important thing to remember, because it is 100% true.
I have been feeling better lately, but not without hitting a new rock bottom first. One day, completely undone by my own anxiety, kneeling on the floor as bleach dissolved the skin on my hands and knees, I was howling in agony...and still could not stop the ritual. In fact, the pain was so severe (my chemical burns were so bad that I was bleeding) that I kept becoming distracted and having to start over. I was pleading for it to end, and I no longer cared how.
Over the days that followed, I knew I had two options; I either had to take control of my life back, or the self that had existed for more than 30 years would cease to be forever. I asked myself a very critical question; Is anything worth this? Anything? And I thought about that for a while. I examined the question, every terrible possibility, allowing myself to become immersed in the fears that had spawned this demon OCD. And the answer, unequivocally, was no. Even my very worst case scenario was almost laughable by comparison to the hell I had inflicted upon myself for two years.
Now, just having this realization is not a cure, and the feelings don't go away. However, it has served as a catalyst for me to begin doing the real, hard work of ERP. And, much to my astonishment, ERP does work. It really does. I know this because there are things I am doing now with a fair amount of ease which would have crippled me with fear to even think about a few months ago. Often, I find myself smiling because the work is becoming less like work and more automatic.
I faced a fear today that would have sent me into days of compulsion hell. I still did some precautionary measures, but it was not a full-on ritual disaster and I am not overcome with stress and anxiety. That alone is amazing. I don't think I'm out of the woods yet; I will never underestimate the power of OCD. But ERP, well, it's pretty powerful, too.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Sticking With It
Some goals are too embarrassing to bother posting. However, since I have made some progress, I will fess up now. A few challenges - some new, some old, dealt with in the past several days:
My children have a new swing set. Things not within my home are not within my control. Thus, the thing feels like a source of possible contamination to me. I am afraid of it. They, however, are not. And the thing is awesome. The mere thought of having such a something in my backyard at their age nearly gives me butterflies just thinking of it. They must play on it. Though my 0 - 100 anxiety level was a 90 when it arrived, I am now at about a 30.
My kitchen has been relatively clean. Back in the day, before this contamination OCD took over my life, my home used to be the envy of others. It's not big, it's not fancy, and it's not even new. But it was nice and tidy all of the time, even when my children were babies. Funny how fear of touching everything makes keeping a tidy home impossible. Dust accumulates, dishes pile up, crumbs sneak up on the kitchen table and seem to multiply while there. But my kitchen is currently, aside from a few dishes in the "soaking side" of the sink, clean. And it has been all week. I have been touching the dirty dishes, loading the dishwasher, putting clean dishes away, all like clockwork. Easy? No. But it is getting easier. I am really proud of myself for sticking with it.
I have gone full 24 hour days without washing my hands, 3 times this month. Now, I am not going out of the house on these days, nor am I doing laundry, but I am doing other typical household necessities. The episode of The OCD Project where everyone had to give up their rituals inspired me. These exposures, I think, have led to massive progress elsewhere. A couple of months ago, this would have been unthinkable.
I cleaned the kitchen floor. There was a semi-permanent layer of film over the floor from accumulated floor soap. It took me all day today, but I did it. And I did a load of laundry - after messing with the nasty floor all day. And I cleaned my kids' summer sandals and shoes and they are ready for wearing, also after the floor. Exposures, exposures, exposures.
And I am really feeling good.
My children have a new swing set. Things not within my home are not within my control. Thus, the thing feels like a source of possible contamination to me. I am afraid of it. They, however, are not. And the thing is awesome. The mere thought of having such a something in my backyard at their age nearly gives me butterflies just thinking of it. They must play on it. Though my 0 - 100 anxiety level was a 90 when it arrived, I am now at about a 30.
My kitchen has been relatively clean. Back in the day, before this contamination OCD took over my life, my home used to be the envy of others. It's not big, it's not fancy, and it's not even new. But it was nice and tidy all of the time, even when my children were babies. Funny how fear of touching everything makes keeping a tidy home impossible. Dust accumulates, dishes pile up, crumbs sneak up on the kitchen table and seem to multiply while there. But my kitchen is currently, aside from a few dishes in the "soaking side" of the sink, clean. And it has been all week. I have been touching the dirty dishes, loading the dishwasher, putting clean dishes away, all like clockwork. Easy? No. But it is getting easier. I am really proud of myself for sticking with it.
I have gone full 24 hour days without washing my hands, 3 times this month. Now, I am not going out of the house on these days, nor am I doing laundry, but I am doing other typical household necessities. The episode of The OCD Project where everyone had to give up their rituals inspired me. These exposures, I think, have led to massive progress elsewhere. A couple of months ago, this would have been unthinkable.
I cleaned the kitchen floor. There was a semi-permanent layer of film over the floor from accumulated floor soap. It took me all day today, but I did it. And I did a load of laundry - after messing with the nasty floor all day. And I cleaned my kids' summer sandals and shoes and they are ready for wearing, also after the floor. Exposures, exposures, exposures.
And I am really feeling good.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Habituation
It seems that getting out of the house and being around people helps. I find myself much less compulsive and, for that matter, much less obsessive when not behaving like a social hermit. And even the obsessive parts have less power when I have been out and about. It's odd, because while I am at home, going out and facing a plethora of contamination possibilities kind of makes me want to bar the doors and windows and never emerge from my safe zone again. Meanwhile, I fully realize that avoidance only breeds fear, and is basically like feeding OCD a giant bowl of crack.
I visited with my dad again recently, and it was really cool. I was in town where he lives and called to see if he wanted to meet me for dinner. He did, and another family member was at the restaurant we went to, so we all sat and talked two hours away. It was great, hugs and all.
My laundry pile is finally diminishing, and it is so satisfying to watch that pile get smaller. Also satisfying is opening closets and drawers and finding them full, instead of completely (or damn near) empty. It hasn't been easy, standing there with my heart pounding and my hands shaking until my mind accepts that I am just going to do it despite my fear. Get used to the cold pool water, your body will habituate, I tell myself. Years of spending entire summers swimming in pools and the lake have afforded me this metaphor. Jumping in always sucks, but pretty soon you're just swimming and going about your business without a thought in the world to the water temperature. That is precisely the goal of habituation in OCD. And, perhaps not surprisingly, it often works if I make myself stick with it.
I am getting better with public. I still cannot bring myself to touch shopping carts, even if I wipe them down with those sani wipe things. That is a goal for me. For now, I carry plastic bags with me or use produce bags in the store to wrap the cart handles with. Shopping carts just freak me right out. Gah!
I visited with my dad again recently, and it was really cool. I was in town where he lives and called to see if he wanted to meet me for dinner. He did, and another family member was at the restaurant we went to, so we all sat and talked two hours away. It was great, hugs and all.
My laundry pile is finally diminishing, and it is so satisfying to watch that pile get smaller. Also satisfying is opening closets and drawers and finding them full, instead of completely (or damn near) empty. It hasn't been easy, standing there with my heart pounding and my hands shaking until my mind accepts that I am just going to do it despite my fear. Get used to the cold pool water, your body will habituate, I tell myself. Years of spending entire summers swimming in pools and the lake have afforded me this metaphor. Jumping in always sucks, but pretty soon you're just swimming and going about your business without a thought in the world to the water temperature. That is precisely the goal of habituation in OCD. And, perhaps not surprisingly, it often works if I make myself stick with it.
I am getting better with public. I still cannot bring myself to touch shopping carts, even if I wipe them down with those sani wipe things. That is a goal for me. For now, I carry plastic bags with me or use produce bags in the store to wrap the cart handles with. Shopping carts just freak me right out. Gah!
Friday, May 14, 2010
Habituation: If It Doesn't Suck...
You're not doing it right. At least, that is the conclusion I have come to. If I feel content, comfortable, free of massive stress and anxiety, then I am not working the ERP hard enough. And the results only come when I am really pressing myself. The fact that it feels so counter-intuitive only complicates things; I feel like I am running a race, and everything tells me I should run faster, but running slower is what pushes me forward. It makes no sense.
The secret lies in habituation. I have noticed that that if I have one fear, and I encounter another fear which seems more substantial than the first, the initial fear loses almost all of its power. For example, say I have a piece of laundry which I feel is contaminated (by my standards, which I know are not normal). I might feel like it is impossible to place that piece of laundry in the washing machine with less contaminated articles of clothing. The mere thought of it might provoke a rapid heart rate and trembling. But then I go shopping, and I touch something sticky. While it is probably just juice, or something equally benign, my mind runs with the possibilities until I feel like nothing short of a hot shower will make me feel better. Upon returning home, the piece of laundry that once felt frighteningly contaminated no longer bothers me. I am able to wash it without any psychological discomfort.
That is habituation. I liken it to jumping into a cold pool, which I did many times during my childhood. At first it feels awful! You want to get right back out and remove yourself from the discomfort of the cold. But, if you wait, your brain stops paying attention to the signals from your body. The water doesn't get any warmer, but you become habituated to it. It no longer brings the same level of discomfort. In fact, before too long, you are enjoying yourself in the water without much of a thought to the temperature. If you get out of the pool, but get right back in, there isn't nearly the jolt you felt the first time. And that is the key. Who knew all those years of swimming would afford me such a useful metaphor?
Keep jumping in the pool.
I have found that some things are getting easier. As I continue pressing myself, which feels like the wrong thing to do, life is becoming a bit more normal. Things that would typically drive me nuts are much less anxiety-provoking. But occasionally, for whatever reason, I have a really, really bad day where I can't seem to do anything right. Those days are filled with much self-loathing (I have no patience with myself for this crap). But I am reminded of something I read in a newer book by Jeff Bell, called When In Doubt, Make Belief. Though I don't recall the exact phrasing, the point was that we have an opportunity in each moment, if we don't let past (did I?) or future (will X happen?) overrun our current, our present, our now. And many times I have stood, facing my nemesis, saying to myself, I have this moment...just this moment...and I don't need to think about anything else right now except what I am doing. It is not as bad as it seems. OCD is a bully. It wants me to be afraid. The fear I feel is real, but the threat is not. And it does work, not miraculously, but with enough effort.
The secret lies in habituation. I have noticed that that if I have one fear, and I encounter another fear which seems more substantial than the first, the initial fear loses almost all of its power. For example, say I have a piece of laundry which I feel is contaminated (by my standards, which I know are not normal). I might feel like it is impossible to place that piece of laundry in the washing machine with less contaminated articles of clothing. The mere thought of it might provoke a rapid heart rate and trembling. But then I go shopping, and I touch something sticky. While it is probably just juice, or something equally benign, my mind runs with the possibilities until I feel like nothing short of a hot shower will make me feel better. Upon returning home, the piece of laundry that once felt frighteningly contaminated no longer bothers me. I am able to wash it without any psychological discomfort.
That is habituation. I liken it to jumping into a cold pool, which I did many times during my childhood. At first it feels awful! You want to get right back out and remove yourself from the discomfort of the cold. But, if you wait, your brain stops paying attention to the signals from your body. The water doesn't get any warmer, but you become habituated to it. It no longer brings the same level of discomfort. In fact, before too long, you are enjoying yourself in the water without much of a thought to the temperature. If you get out of the pool, but get right back in, there isn't nearly the jolt you felt the first time. And that is the key. Who knew all those years of swimming would afford me such a useful metaphor?
Keep jumping in the pool.
I have found that some things are getting easier. As I continue pressing myself, which feels like the wrong thing to do, life is becoming a bit more normal. Things that would typically drive me nuts are much less anxiety-provoking. But occasionally, for whatever reason, I have a really, really bad day where I can't seem to do anything right. Those days are filled with much self-loathing (I have no patience with myself for this crap). But I am reminded of something I read in a newer book by Jeff Bell, called When In Doubt, Make Belief. Though I don't recall the exact phrasing, the point was that we have an opportunity in each moment, if we don't let past (did I?) or future (will X happen?) overrun our current, our present, our now. And many times I have stood, facing my nemesis, saying to myself, I have this moment...just this moment...and I don't need to think about anything else right now except what I am doing. It is not as bad as it seems. OCD is a bully. It wants me to be afraid. The fear I feel is real, but the threat is not. And it does work, not miraculously, but with enough effort.
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